


Pennywise part 1

by Foxforcefive



Category: IT - Stephen King
Genre: Blood and Gore, Dark, Dark Romance, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Horror, Multi, Other, Pennywise (IT) in Love, Pennywise the dancing clown, PennywiseXoc, PennywiseXreader - Freeform, Psychological Horror, Shameless Smut, Smut, Stephen King - Freeform, dark themes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-18
Updated: 2019-10-18
Packaged: 2020-12-21 12:30:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21074933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Foxforcefive/pseuds/Foxforcefive
Summary: This is my first published work. I don't really know what to say about it other than I'd like to add a chapter two and three to it (at least)*** I do rate this and later chapters as 'Mature.' There are dark themes, eventual smut, language, etc. I do not own Pennywise. He is not a character I created. ***When writing about Pennywise I envisioned Curry's charismatic, cheeky and playful portrayal mixed with Skarsgard's frightening, malignant and manic depiction which results in my version of our beloved clown.Story can also be found on Wattpad under foxxforce5.I welcome criticism of all sorts so please don't be shy! Enjoy ^_^





	Pennywise part 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first published work. I don't really know what to say about it other than I'd like to add a chapter two and three to it (at least)  
*** I do rate this and later chapters as 'Mature.' There are dark themes, eventual smut, language, etc. I do not own Pennywise. He is not a character I created. ***  
When writing about Pennywise I envisioned Curry's charismatic, cheeky and playful portrayal mixed with Skarsgard's frightening, malignant and manic depiction which results in my version of our beloved clown.  
Story can also be found on Wattpad under foxxforce5.  
I welcome criticism of all sorts so please don't be shy! Enjoy ^_^

Her husband sat across the table eyes glued to his phone. He hadn't set it down for months completely bewitched by the screen.

Ever since he'd expressed his interest in other women she'd felt a numbness inside that consumed her in never ending confusion and dispair. She loved him, desired him and did everything she felt she could do to win his heart back. She had even allowed his behavior encouraging his actions, if only to make him see how much she cared.

Her eyes shifted downwards to the steak dinner she'd made for them going out of her way to polish the silver, light candles and do herself up. Her efforts, like many others in the past, were fruitless.

She stared at the meat in a deep trance lost in puzzling turmoil on what she could still be doing wrong.

She heard him give a husky chuckle, eyes never leaving his device.

The knife, sharp and sparkling, rested in her hand and she squeezed it with an involuntary envy she'd been feeding since long before his confession.

She jabbed at the meat with her fork and sawed into it, back straight in her chair, keeping a refined poise to her demeanor. She sliced with careful strokes watching the blade effortlessly cut. She had found herself in her own dream carving the food into smaller and smaller pieces.

She hated his resentment towards her and silently cursed the woman on the other end whom he'd become smitten and languished after. Men were ruthless with their libidos. She begrudged their genetics; feeling a minor superiority, and yet despising her yearning weakness for their--for his attentions.

He'd told her to go and do the same actions he was persuing. He expressed a false hope that this new found fetish was something that'd bring them closer. What a foolish thing she was to listen. She had fulfilled his wishes; flirting, wooing and taking men persistent enough to give her crumbling ego exactly what she craved. But it was never satisfying. Her husband was the only one for her.

She had tried every tactic history had seen to win his heart back. The more she tried the more placid and roused he was to continue his assaults on their marriage.

He didn't touch her any more. Hadn't touched her romantically for almost a year and she wanted his warmth more than anything else in the dark world. She had demonstrated her needs plenty of times to him until rejection ate away at her. She became a shell no longer seeking any sort of contact physical or emotional.

These past few months she had found herself withdrawn and isolated from the world. Going outside became draining. Forcing herself to be surrounded by strangers mesmerized in their own lives only helped her to see how abandoned she truly was. All these events made her sick.

On the other end of the table she saw him rise and head towards the downstairs bathroom. She took a large gulp of wine, her fourth glass that evening.

She sat there in the all too familiar silence that occupied her every waking moment and wondered for the umpteenth time what to do. She felt no joy in the comforts of leaving and starting new. Those were childish fantasies meant for the strong.

She picked at her food pretending the man she had fallen in love with years ago still occupied his chair. How he would be grateful for not only the things she did but also for her company. She envisioned them sharing sweet words and silly toasts to each other, kissing sweetly, enjoying it all.

She couldn't remember the last time she had been kissed. Surely well over three years. Her husband, as he'd pointed out to her countless times, was not the affectionate type. Yet she had plenty suspicion that his mistress received more than a fair amount.

Her hands fell to her lap and she once again welcomed the grim thoughts that had plagued her for far too long; searching aimlessly for some way to make him see how much he loved her.

'Kill her.' Short and harsh came the voice in her head, and she smiled to herself faintly at the notion. She had seen her before, the woman. Blonde and curvaceous; long legs, big breasts and a face coated in layers upon layers of makeup. The smile fell instantly.

He'd been cruel enough to share his photos with her. Taking pride in exhibiting who it was that had stolen his devotion. That was when she had started second guessing herself. Doubting. That was when she had started to become desperate. She'd doll herself up beyond recognition, changing her personality and thoughts daily to better entice him. She'd even sunken so low as to fain interest in the same women. She had thought perhaps an open mind was the best way to approach these things, and she'd shamed and ridiculed herself for both of them still to no avail of her goals. Her act was short lived and she retreated further into the shadows.

'Kill her,' she heard again. 'Do it. Come on, do it. You know you want to...'

She bobbed her head letting her mind shift to darker and deadlier imaginings. She didn't feel guilt. She didn't feel fear or shame like she did with everything else in her life. Not this time.

Her eyes shifted once more to the empty seat and then to the ticking clock above the China case that stood across the wall. He'd been in there for almost an hour.

She finished her glass sustaining a sudden thirst she didn't realize she had. Setting the glass down, feeling hopelessness creeping in, something then caught her eye.

Floating whimsically in the cabinet was a red balloon.

Her first thought was that she'd had too much wine, acknowledging the half empty bottle lounging on the surface. The innocent cheer the bright crimson latex brought was enough to pull her from her thinking and she crossed the room standing before the glass turning the knob. The case creaked slightly and she gazed in amazement at the object, the faint aroma of popcorn filling the air. Delicate fingers wrapped about the white string that was its tail. She was puzzled. How could her imagination be making this so real?

She led the balloon out from its enclosure and felt a smile form on her face. Her eyes roamed the flawless piece before closing the case.

She had always loved the circus. The playful music, brights lights, games and the neverending fun. She remembered the balloon she once held, identical to the one entwined in her hand, from her fleeting childhood. Such a wondrous evening that had been. Endless curiosity and enchantment had befallen her tiny soul.

Turning to return to her seat she caught sight of something else.

A clown.

Thunder roared above the house and she saw the heavy grey clouds that had been miles away earlier now rolling across the town sky. The trees outside rocked and swayed with the wind, but he stood there unfazed outside the large window.

His costume a once white and splendid attire she was sure, was tattered and filthy; red pom-poms a dying shade of red; his sleeves and collar frayed. The only pristine thing was his face. Snow white makeup covered every inch of it; his hair a fire orange that divided into three parts blazed in contrast. He lacked the large rubber ball of nose most distinguishable for his breed and replaced it with paint. The same red covered his lips and curved from the corners climbing over his eyes and ending half way on his abnormally large head.

She took a step forward expecting the alcohol enduced delusion to dissipate with each motion, but he remained.

She stepped closer, foot after foot, hypnotized by his ominous look. His eyes which had started as a deep ocean blue began to change with the closing distance. Lips parted, she studied him noting how that stare melted from a soothing chill to something warm and dangerous.

She made it to the window a mere arms length from him, his smoldering amber gaze never wavering from her own.

The rain began to fall.

'Come on.' The voice, quick and coarse, was not her own. Not entirely. 'Look at 'cha, Eve. What does she got that you don't, huh?' Their voices blended in her mind making her rock slightly with dizziness.

Eve gave him a quizzical look, fingers still laced with the balloon.

'Come on, baby. You got it. I know it. I see it.'

He brandished a smile that caused a shiver to ripple throughout her body.  
His bottom lip swelled into a pool of intoxicating flesh that her eyes lingered on for far too long. His cheeks raised high on his face displaying two prominent incisors followed by smaller canines. Desire filled in her belly then and she felt heat rise to her cheeks embarrassed of her emotion.

'Tut, tut, tut.' His gloved finger ticked side to side. 'No need to feel shy. I feel it too,' he spoke in her head. Eyes widened as she listened to the coo of his words, fascinated by them--by him. 'I hear your needs; I feel your desires, your shame and your loneliness.'

She frowned at him, her consciousness engulfed suddenly by torturous months of self loathing, neglect and abuse. All the hate. All the tears. It buried her. She closed her eyes ready to turn and run.

'Wait.' His smile had disappeared. That luscious lip she'd engraved in her brain recoiled, hanging loosely in a dazed expression.

'Don't go. Stay. Stay with me. Stay with me here in the dark... Drown with me. Submerge yourself in your wants and desires. Embrace the hate that envelopes you, my dear... Let us explore it--taste it together.'

Her eyes conveyed a longing to let go and feel freedom again. She was aware of how chained and broken she was. How pathetic and small she stood as opposed to the wild fierce woman she once was. She wanted that again. She wanted to feel something again.

The clown pressed his hand against the pane.

'Join me,' he whispered. 'Join me here. Together we can find you again.'

Heart pounding in her chest she slowly raised her hand up towards his own. She let his words lull her into an extraordinary trance she didn't want to leave. She needed to drown. Drown in his penetrating stare and become wrapped in his heat.

Her hand inched closer and closer to the glass. So close they were and so focused they'd been on each other that when the glass shattered to the ground Eve jumped, spinning, her hands flying to her chest.

The black cat sat on the table, mouth full of tender steak, gnawing away with a happy purr.

"Damnit, Lucifer," she hissed, body visibly softening with relief.

She turned back to the window, heart broken to see the clown was gone. She looked as far out as she could searching for any trace of the handsome stranger who'd mended her pain.

Knowing he'd gone brought a wave of sorrow. She closed her eyes, facing the dining room and resting against the glass. She dropped her head back, feeling the chill that came with rain as she unleashed a shaky sigh.

'What a dream...'

A smile pulled the ends of her mouth as she repeated his words. The darkness no longer seemed like such a suffocating affair. He had made the strain of reality seem void. She felt blessed in a way, thankful for the unexpected impact of self assurance and peace.

A soft brush against her leg woke her and she cast her eyes down.

Balloons.

Balloons as red and as charming as his smile littered the room. They sat on chairs, hung off walls, piled on the table; covered the ceiling, perched on her shelves, pooled at her feet and surrounded the fire place.

Red. That's all she saw.

She walked spellbound through the mass, afraid they'd disappear like he had. She turned in circles cherishing them all, smile widening bigger and bigger igniting something within her.

"What are you doing?" Her husband had emerged from the bathroom, phone still in hand, sweat noticable on his brow giving her a puzzled expression.

"Did you do this?" She asked motioning to the walls and floor. He looked around, skeptical, not sure of what she spoke of.

"No..." he answered slow. "You made the dinner, Eve. Remember?" She dismissed his response, acting as if he hadn't spoken, and went back to her admiration of the room. 

"Are you alright?" He asked her, frozen in his spot. Her display was incredibly bizarre and out of character.

"I'm fine," she replied, smile never faltering as she looked to him. She felt a giggle in her chest at his bewildered stare.

He watched as that giggle morphed into a frightening laugh. Harsher and louder it came, until she sounded on the verge of hysteria.

"I'm fine," she responded in a chipper voice, clapping her hands together. She sauntered around the room in awe, eyes blazing with a new fondness for the place. "I'm fine. I'm fine. I'm fine! I'm fucking fine!"

He stared, startled by this woman. He had never seen Eve like this before. He'd been a first-hand witness to her shrinking form for years but had never seen her as exoberiant as tonight. Her desperation and consistent pleading was his norm. It made her pathetic and ugly in his eyes. This woman was a new Eve though. One he felt he never wanted to come across, see or speak to again. Her soft and meek qualities changed before his eyes and he was unfamiliar with this new feeling in his chest.

He noted the broken wine glass on the ground and decided she had had far too much to drink this evening (and himself far too less.)

He grabbed the ice bucket and bottle making his way to the stairs, heading for their bedroom. He was intent on ignoring her for the remainder of the night. He didn't want anything to do with her crazed and drunken state. It was too much this time. She was too much this time.

Eve watched his retreating form and felt something new in the air between them.

She convulsived with laughter.

"Where ya goin', tough stuff?!" She called. "Don't 'cha want to enjoy the show?!"

She suddenly grabbed a vase off the mantle and pitched it at him. She had missed, bursting with cries of excitement as his pace quickened, pieces clattering to the floorboards.

Resentment had gone. Hate no longer pressed between them. No... this was something new that she hadn't felt before. Something she herself normally exerted every time they shared the same space.

She felt his fear.

And she liked it.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you liked it. Chapter two is currently in the works and shall be out soon. I'll update and post as soon as it's finished.


End file.
